A Time to Stand
by FriendlyFangirl11
Summary: A fill for a prompt on the Glee Angst Meme - 15 students get trapped inside McKinley High School during a school shooting.  The New Directions members who escaped stand outside, supporting each other and hoping that their friends inside will be alright.
1. Chapter 1

This is a WIP with EXTREMELY short chapters as it's being written as a fill on the Glee Angst Meme.

The original prompt: there is a school shooting at mckinley high school, i picture the shooter being Jacob ben israel, most people get out of the school, they find out that there is still fifteen people left in the school including a teacher, i want there to be a mixed range of people to be in the building, i picture the glee club all together outside worried about there members that are still in the building i picture Artie, Brittany, Santana and Kurt still Being in the building, they would pick up people who are still in the building, needs to be hurt Kurt.

Still several chapters from being finished.

The worst part was that Kurt was in a separate class when it happened. NO one had believed it when they heard the first shot. A car had backfired, something had fallen. The second shot and the scream that followed was a little harder to explain. Finn was on his feet and heading for the door in an instant. Blaine could practically hear Finn's thoughts.

Kurt!

It was a reaction they shared enough that rushing to get between Finn and the door to stop him from rushing out into the hall left Blaine's lungs empty and eyes full. His weight pushed the door closed and he found and clicked the lock into place.

"Blaine!" Finn shouted. Blaine felt the word like a blow and leaned heavily into the door.

"Kurt would never forgive me if I let you get shot looking for him." Blaine's voice was eerily calm. He didn't have the energy to express his terror. The reality of the situation set in and silence stretched over the room. For a moment, Blaine let the door hold almost his entire body weight. Then the tension grew and he realized his mistake - He'd drawn attention to himself. Everyone would be looking to him now. He pushed himself up, afraid to look around. Reaching out, he closed the blinds over the window and requested "Ms. Weston, shut the other blinds please." Having a teacher scramble to obey him felt like it twisted Blaine's very existence. He took a long, deep breath in a desperate attempt to steady himself and turned around.

Finn hadn't moved, and Blaine was suddenly a little too close to him. Their eyes met, and Blaine silently begged for Finn's support. He watched the emotions flick across Finn's face. Fear, anger, uncertainty, finally agreement. Finn nodded and backed away. Blaine looked around. As he'd expected all eyes were on him. "We should sit on the floor." he suggested with a glance at the teacher, hoping every second she would take this sudden authority from him. He was a charismatic figure, but not a leader. She made no move to do so, and in fact seemed to hang on his every word as much as the students. So he just took charge. "Across the room from the door and windows, as far from them as we can get."

They did as Blaine said. While they weren't calm, his managing to appear so kept them quiet. There were tears, hand holding, prayer whispering. Blaine sat by Finn who was holding Rachel close. He turned his attention to quelling the jealousy, that Finn and Rachel had each other right now but Kurt was god-knows-where and he was here alone. There were more gunshots, but they grew fainter, farther away. Finn kept looking at him, the silent question. 'can I go look for him now?' Blaine always shook his head, and always felt like it was a betrayal.

No one even came to the classroom until the police arrived and evacuated them. The moment they were outside, amid dozens of other rescued students, Blaine turned his attention to searching through the crowd for Kurt. The whispers got to him almost imminently. "There are still people in there" some sobbed "they haven't caught the shooter yet" others gossiped. He was just looking for Kurt.

"Blaine!" Mercedes found him first. He was surprised to realize she was hugging him. He looked up at her boyfriend, who surprised him again with a weary smile. "Have you seen anyone?" Mercedes asked, and Blaine had to admire the way she nearly pushed the tremor out of her voice.

"I was in class with Finn and Rachel." Blaine reported. "We all got out safe." Her mixed expression told him that they weren't exactly who she'd been asking about, so he knew the answer to his question before he asked. "You?"

Mercedes nodded, following his lead in a way. "Puck and Quinn were both actually in class today."

"Isn't Kurt in that class with you?" he didn't mean to snap at her, but he was scared. Her silence said everything that it could and he left her with a pat on the shoulder and walked on. Students were panicking, held back by a police line. Blaine was struck by how alone he really was. Could Kurt walk by this many people without recognizing anyone? Blaine didn't actually know anyone outside New Directions. He felt guilty that he didn't actually care about anyone in the panicking crowd. All they were to him was obstacles to finding Kurt. Blaine felt a little sickened by his own callousness but if he found his boyfriend everything would...

Not be okay.

The Asian couple was by the ambulance. Mike was holding Tina, trying to comfort her. Blaine ran over. An officer tried to tell him to stay back but was too overwhelmed to offer any real resistance to Blaine's rather lame response of "they're my friends." Blaine pushed past him.

As he approached, Tina whimpered something that made it feel like his blood had frozen in his veins. He tried to ask what had happened, but the words wouldn't quite come and all he managed was a small, shaky sound that was still a thousand times more steady than he felt. Tina was wrapped in a blanket for shock, but he could see the blood on her shirt. Her hair was damp and tell-tale remnants of slushy still clung to some strands. Blaine wanted to hear her story, but didn't actually want to know. Because the single word in her whimper was the last thing he wanted to hear someone in her position say right now.

She'd whimpered "Kurt."


	2. Chapter 2

As painful as they were, the worst part of slushie facials was the humiliation. So while in some ways being struck in the back of the head was better than the usual in the face they'd put up with for years. No painful stinging in your eyes, and yet it was so much more of a nightmare for long-haired girls like Tina.

When Kurt had followed her into the ladies room, she'd lashed out at him. She wasn't even sure in the moment what she was actually saying to him, just that she was yelling. The small, knowing smile he offered quickly defused her temper. His displaying a tiny little shampoo bottle made her want to hug him. "Ever since the local neanderthals turned keeping a presentable job around here, I've been taking precautions." Kurt explained, and Tina had actually managed a laugh. He'd set a sink to the perfect temperature and set up a chair for her to lean her head under the faucet. Just as the warm water touched her scalp there was a gunshot.

Tina sat up suddenly, splashing Kurt. The next door over slammed open and two shots rang out. Kurt ran to the door and opened it. Later, Tina would play the moment he looked over his shoulder and said her name over and over in her head. She'd never heard him more scared. "We have to make a run for..."

She never heard the end of that sentence. Kurt was cut off by another gunshot. Tina had been standing behind him by then. She felt blood hit the front of her shirt, warm and wet and all she could think was how unrealistic it was that she'd pretended to be a vampire for so long because blood made her sick. She turned away and felt her breakfast rush back up and burn her throat. She heard more than saw it spatter on the floor and realized abruptly how spectacularly undignified her death would be.

Tina had almost begun to cry when she heard another shot. The sound was accompanied by the sound of loud cursing an a tile shattering behind her. She looked up, more surprised at being alive than anything. So surprised that the fact that she looked up to see Jacob Ben Israel with a gun barley registered. She couldn't even be frightened by his psychotic grin. Later, she would be. Just then, she saw Kurt latch onto Jacob's upper arm. She heard him scream "Tina, Run!"

Tina complied, pushing past them, blood and sick getting on her shoes. She ran for the wheelchair exit at the far end of the hall, leaving Kurt behind and hating herself for it every step.


	3. Chapter 3

Time wasn't fair.

Finn voiced this thought to Rachel, who looked at him as if his head were suddenly growing in sideways. He just pulled her close and tried not to think about how the hour that had passed since he'd heard that first gunshot felt like a year. Or how the hour before he'd spent watching the way Rachel's hair fell forward and exposed her neck when taking notes had felt like maybe a minute. More than anything he tried not to think about how he'd failed to watch Kurt's back both times it had really mattered. How this time his step-brother might be dead.

Mr. Schue found them and called to Puck and Quinn. "You guys alright?" Puck asked when he joined them. Finn kind-of wanted to hit him. A lot. Mostly because Rachel pulled away to hug him. To be fair she hugged Quinn and even Mr. Schue a moment later. Reassurances of mutual safety made him want to puke. 'what about Kurt?' his mind screamed at them all. It took a lot of effort to hold his tongue.

Then Quinn made him feel like an ass. "Brit and Santana were in the choir room, Mr. Schue." she reported. Finn closed his eyes. He tried to pretend this wasn't happening. Nothing he tried seemed to be working today. He could hear his own heartbeat, too fast.

Schuster's voice. "I haven't seen Artie ether." Finn felt like he'd suffered a 300 pound tackle. Or maybe like he was drowning. Some terrible feeling in between. He felt sick. Four of his friends were missing, but he was only worried about one of them. What kind of friend was he? He started to feel better when Rachel leaned against him again. At least someone could count on him.

Puck swore, and Mr. Schue shouted "Puck! Where are you going?" Finn opened his eyes. Puck was walking toward the school. Finn didn't think. He ran after Puck. For a second, he wasn't sure if he was going to follow Puck in or stop him from going. Then Rachel screamed for him, so he reached out and caught Puck by the sleeve.

"Get the hell off me, Hudson!"

Finn tried to remember what Blaine had said to him. Tried to express the thought that had held him back more than the person planting himself ahead. He ended up shouting "Artie wouldn't want you shot!"

It wasn't the first time Puck had ever hit Finn. It was the first time Puck's fist had knocked Finn entirely off his feet. Mr. Schue was over him, and for a second Finn thought Rachel was kneeling beside him, holding his hand. Except that was Rachel, standing in front of Puck and scolding him. He looked to his left and saw Quinn there. Her face was pinched and angry looking and Finn tried to recoil, but the effort sent pain through his shoulders. He wasn't proud of the sound he made.

Puck was breathing heavily but Finn recognized slow calming. Puck moved to stand over him, Mr. Schue stepped back. Puck managed a small smile and offered a hand. Finn took the hand and Puck hauled him to his feet with the comment. "Sorry, man."

Finn smiled and tried to catch his balance. Rachel and Quinn helped steady him. Quinn stepped away but Rachel stayed close. Finn kept most of his weight off her and stopped using her for support as soon as he could. "it's okay." he offered. "I wanted to do the same thing to Blaine earlier when he said that to me."

Puck looked confused for a moment, and then realization dawned. "Is Kurt..."

Finn shrugged. "No idea." then he remembered. "Doesn't he have class with you?" he demanded, whirling to face Quinn, who looked shocked.

"Yeah." Puck interrupted. "Quinn, me, Mercedes." Finn got the silent message and stepped back from Quinn. Puck stepped forward and said quietly. "Kurt wasn't in class today."


	4. Chapter 4

Artie was about to turn down the hall that led to the wheelchair accessible exit when Kurt Hummel literally fell into his lap. Artie was soon soaked in blood. Kurt was small, but heavy against his chest. In the sudden haze of shock that descended on him, it didn't make sense that someone Kurt's size could have so much blood. Artie looked down the hall he'd been about to turn down. As if this experience wasn't surreal enough as it was, Jacob Ben Israel was standing by the restrooms was pointing a gun at him. It wasn't so surreal that Artie even considered doing anything but getting the hell out of there.

Most people underestimate the kind of acceleration a wheelchair is capable of on a flat surface. Of course, getting that kind of acceleration isn't actually safe. There are risks, like slamming into walls or, as actually happened, ripping up the skin on his palms to turn corners fast enough to avoid slamming into walls. The extra weight made the speed harder to reach, but easier to control and all Artie could think was that at least one thing was going well for him. Between feeling like a lab rat trapped in a maze and the fact that there was a friend practically bleeding to death in his lap, Artie had just a little bit too much to process.

It had been so easy earlier. His class had bolted, leaving him behind the moment they heard a shot. Mike had tried to stay behind and help him and Artie had told him to go. He'd felt noble then, ordering Mike to go find Tina instead of helping him. Now he just felt stupid. Somehow, he managed to both wish he'd just let Mike carry him out and feel guilty for that wish. He was kind-of saving Kurt's life right now and it made him feel a bit sick that all-in-all he'd rather just be safe.

Than the chair wasn't under his control anymore. Someone came up behind him and grabbed the handles. Artie half suspected that this was what a heart attack felt like. Being turned suddenly into a classroom quite simply convinced him he was going to die. So when it not only wasn't Jacob but a dreadlocked freshman who turned and locked the door behind them he felt a scream die in his throat and couldn't get any other sounds out instead. Kurt was pulled off his lap and laid on the floor. The stranger looked up and met Artie's eyes and gave a simple, strangely calm order. "Mr. Wells keeps a first aid kit in the bottom drawer." Artie obeyed, realizing halfway back from retrieving the kit it hadn't actually been an order. Something about the younger, and much taller, boy's intensity had just made it come across that way.

The stranger silently tended Kurt's wounds while Artie...just sat there.

Not moving was harder than running. Being still only amplified his panic. He didn't know what to do with hands, or with the rest of him for that matter. He figited, tugged the blood soaked bits of clothes away from his body. He held his breath to keep the tears gathering in his eyes from falling. When he breathed again, it was only to ask "Will he be alright?"

The stranger didn't look up from his efforts. His words were far from reassuring. "It's hard to tell." Artie glared at him. The stranger worked quickly and surprisingly efficiently, cleaning and putting pressure. "He's lost a lot of blood. I'm trying to stop the bleeding, but if much of it is internal then there's nothing I can do for him. He'll need surgery." Kurt's next breath was audible, and Artie couldn't blame him. He'd be annoyed too if a complete stranger acting like some sort of medical professional and saying that he might die. It was just horrible bedside manner.

Then Kurt whispered something that Artie didn't understand. The stranger turned his attention to Kurt's face. "Say that again." he said, his voice was calm, low, steady. "C'mon..." the stranger encouraged. "Stay with us...what did you say?" This time, Artie heard Kurt's rasping words. He just wished he'd heard wrong.

"...Britt's with Santana in the choir room."


	5. Chapter 5

Short little Blaine POV bit just to bridge the gap to the main part of this...

-

Back when he'd been single, couples had alternated between amusing Blaine and making him sick. Right now, they made him sick. He didn't begrudge them the chance to hold and comfort each other, he just envied them for it. Finn and Rachel, Mike and Tina, even Mr. Schuster was holding Miss. Pillsburry. Blaine wanted to scream at them all. Wasn't Mercedes suppose to be Kurt's best friend? How could she just curl up so contented looking against her boyfriend? Okay, so she didn't actually look content, she looked terrified. Blaine was just angry and generally knew better than to speak.

The hand on his shoulder was a surprise. Blaine turned and saw Puck offer a weak smile. Too much practice at such things enabled Blaine to return it. It felt like a betrayal though. Kurt might be dead and Tina had confirmed he was hurt. How was this any time to smile? Puck must have had a similar thought, both smiles vanished. Then Puck spoke. "Hang in there, man." the meaningless platitude wasn't actually helpful. Blaine knew his expression said as much. So when Puck kpet speaking, Blaine was taken aback. "Just remember, no matter how this all goes down, your guy's a hero."

The sentiment was surprisingly comforting, as was the gentle squeeze of his shoulder. He didn't know how to express that, or even if he could. Puck looked desperate to help. Blaine forced another traitorous curve of his lips and said gently "I always knew that."


	6. Chapter 6

Britney was scared of the bangs. The sudden, loud, sharp sounds that she knew meant death but didn't quite understand how. They'd interrupted Santana's song. That was just rude...she didn't even interrupt when Santana was singing, not until she was done, and then only to ask her to sing part of it again so she could get the step right. The bangs just interrupted and it wasn't nice and shouldn't that make her mad?

Santana had told her not to be scared. Normally that would just be it, and she wouldn't be scared anymore. Except this time she was pretty sure that Santana was lying. Probably because they'd stopped singing and were sitting on the floor behind the chairs. It was a little hard to think about it any more than that though, because Santana had started kissing her. They never kissed like this at school. Santana probably didn't realize that, as good as it was, this was even scarier.

She broke the kiss just long enough to ask "Santana?" Santana shushed her and leaned in again. Britney leaned away and said "Santana, it's important."

Santana sighed heavily, and Britney knew that meant she was being annoying. "What is it, Brit?" Santana was impatient. She was scared. Britney pulled her close into another hug. It was all she could do to make the question she had to ask less scary.

"Are we going to die?"

"No." Santana sounded so sure, except she held on a little bit tighter in a way that wasn't at all convincing. "No, Britney, I swear. We are not going to die."

"Not ever?" Santana's expression screwed up in frustrated concentration. Britney couldn't even see her face and she already knew that. That had been a stupid question. "Sorry..." she mumbled.

"No..." Santana pulled back and looked at her, and squeezed her hand. "Britney, I swear...I won't let anything bad happen to you. Alright? I won't let you die. No matter what."

That was a funny way to say it. Britney had to check. "So you won't let you die ether, right?" she asked. Santana looked frustrated. "...because...my girlfriend dying would actually be really bad for me..."

Santana looked like she couldn't decide if she wanted to laugh or cry. Britney hoped she laughed. Laughing was just...nicer. Santana didn't do ether. Instead she said "I won't let me die ether, Britney." Then they held hands and looked at each other for a little bit, and they were totally about to kiss again and this time it wouldn't be quite as scary because Britney actually felt a little better.

Then the door opened. Britney turned to look but Santana stopped her. It wasn't like Britney minded the fact that her head was suddenly against Santana's boobs, it was pretty nice actually. She just wanted to see who was at the door.

"The hell do you think you're doing?" Santana demanded. She was shouting, which wasn't so nice…the sound echoed through her chest right into Britney's ear. "You've led him here!"

"He's three halls back." the familiar voice made Britney want to jump up and give a hug. Artie! "If we hurry, we can get to a door."

"Right, because you're all stupid enough to not realize this is the exact situation we did those lockdown drills for."

"The cops got everyone out." What? Britney didn't know that voice. It was a nice voice though. She wondered for a moment if he sang. "Except the shooter, and us. Maybe a few more. The point is, we're not staying in this building when some asshole's wandering around with a gun." Wow...he was kind of mean for somebody with such a nice voice. A few of his words tried to break through the film that was always settled over her mind. Shooter, gun...that explained the bangs. And why Santana was scared.

She turned her head to look up at Santana, and stated, simply "people with guns kill people." she'd read that on a bumper sticker. It made sense now, why she'd been so scared. Santana seemed to realize she'd figured it out...and didn't seem to like it much. Britney took a moment to get over the fact that Santana had used her stupidity to keep her from realizing they were in serious danger. Santana pressed her face back down, more close up of boob. That was alright with Britney.

"Let's just go." Kurt! Britney pulled away from Santana, a bit too hard. Santana couldn't hold on and suddenly Britney was standing. Something was wrong with her Unicorn, something was seriously wrong. Britney almost wished she'd just kept her head down. She hadn't wanted to see what was in the doorway. Britney hadn't wanted to see the stranger with dreadlocks holding Artie's Wheelchair, looking ready to run off with it. She hadn't wanted to see Kurt curled up in Artie's lap looking paler than could possibly be healthy. More than anything she didn't want to see all of the blood coming from Kurt's chest. She wanted to stop seeing it so much that suddenly she couldn't. Magical tears filled her eyes and kept her from seeing anything anymore.

Magical tears. The thought was powerful enough that she tried to run over to Kurt, half convinced that she could heal him...somehow. Magically. Maybe with her tears? Maybe she could…

Than Santana caught her hand and said "alright, let's get out of here." and the stranger pulled back and turned Artie and Kurt around and it was too late. Britney couldn't get to him. Santana led her at a high speed run through the hallways, toward the nearest exit. She couldn't see the lockers, she couldn't see anything but her own tears and couldn't decide if she could actually heal Kurt or if she was just being crazy.

For a moment, she wanted to ask. Then she realized that she didn't actually want to know.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N - oh look, I'm finally doing Kurt POV. This was fun to write.

Getting shot HURT.

Brilliant deduction, that. Kurt felt stupid every time his mind returned to that thought. Which, honestly, was just about any time he let his mind wander from a set task. Without any clear role in the current set task, that is, escaping, Kurt found his mind slipping off to that thought more and more often.

It was kinda rude to not be able to remember the name of the guy who had prolonged your life. But not only could Kurt not remember the name of the dreadlocked freshman who he knew he'd said hello to at least once this year, but he was also pretty confidant in his mental use of the word 'prolonged' rather than 'saved'. Nothing like getting shot and being told you might be bleeding internally to drag you face to face with your own mortality.

Honestly? The moment Kurt had felt the impact of the bullet, he'd been totally convinced he was going to die. He'd sort-of been operating under that assumption ever since. Shielding Tina, falling on Artie, trying to find Britt and Santana...he'd done it all fully expecting to not survive this. So now, as began to feel like his bleeding was finally slowing and the rhythmic tapping of women's shoes against the tile gave him hope. For the first time since getting shot, Kurt began to entertain the notion that he might actually see the people he loved again.

That hope was brutally wrenched away from him as a quick turn around a corner was reversed with a too-quiet exclamation of "shit!" from dreadlocks and everyone stopped.

"oh fuck him..." Santana breathed, and continued with a string of progressively less creative curses. Some distant part of Kurt's mind wanted to congratulate her on that even being possible. Mostly, he just couldn't get over how much being shot HURT.

"There's another exit." Artie breathed, and Kurt was pulled back to reality just enough to realize how awkward it was that he could literally feel his friend's breaths. "Back that way. We practically went right past it."

"You mean the one up the stairs." Kurt was a bit surprised by how dismissive his tone was. He wasn't even going to consider that possibility.

"Um...yeah." Artie sounded outright sheepish. Then, almost right in his ear "Kurt, could you make it up the stairs with help from the girls?"

He knew he was lying when he nodded, but he did it anyway. Because it didn't actually matter. He'd known all along he wouldn't make it, momentary flashes of hope aside. What mattered is that they would.

Artie was still a little too close to his ear when he said "So the girls help Kurt up and...I'm pretty sure you can carry me one flight."

The pause only lasted about a second. "Alright. It's the best…chance we have."

There was a weird hesitation in his voice that Kurt spent a little more time thinking about than he should. Mostly because it was that or thinking about how much being shot hurt, which was stupid. So they were a bit down the hallway when it clicked and Kurt laughed a little, looking up at the guy-who-had-nothing-but-try-to-keep-him-and-his-friends-alive-even-though-none-of-them-remembered-his-name and said "...the pains you went to not to say 'best shot'." and giggled, which was a bad idea because apparently, giggling also hurt.

Damn blood loss


	8. Chapter 8

It didn't quite add up.

They stopped at the bottom of the stairs. Britney was kneeling by his chair, it looked like she was trying to snuggle Kurt or touch him or...honestly he had no idea what she was thinking. She apparently had an idea though, because when Brtt, a bit rougher than was necessary, to her feet, Brittany protested a little too loudly. Santana covered Brittany's mouth and made eye contact with him and Artie knew that Santana could tell it didn't quite add up too.

Then they heard the footsteps.

Artie's heart hadn't exactly ever stopped pounding, but now it doubled. The weirdly calm freshman was suddenly hauling Kurt out of his lap and saying "C'mon" in that urgent, quiet voice of his. Santana rushed around and she and Britney tried to support Kurt's weight. Kurt was obviously trying too, as the effort of putting weight on his own feet was visible, and failing. Kurt's whole body sagged between the women. Artie had never quite realized just how *tall* Kurt was. The angle the girls had to hold him at was nearly impossible, and as much as the boy had spent years watching his weight he'd never been approved for cheerio pyramids. Then the other guy started to pick him up and Artie cut him off.

"No." he said suddenly, cursing himself. All eyes turned to him, even, with some obvious struggle, Kurt's. His voice broke when he finished "No, leave me." It was exactly what he'd said to Mike earlier, and look how that had turned out.

With him demanding the same thing again. Because as much as Artie didn't want to die…he couldn't keep his eyes from straying to Brittany, to Santana's hand, lightly brushing Brittany's shoulder as they held Kurt between them. He forced his eyes away and looked up at the stranger, ordering simply "You can carry Kurt."

"And let you get shot?" snapped the boy. "I'm not going to have that on my conscious." and with out time for further argument Artie was being picked up. So not only was this freshman eerily calm, but he was freakishly strong too. Artie felt like nothing, being carried like this. Carried up the stairs and out of danger...he knew he should be feeling relief, but it was like his body hadn't caught up and all he could feel was the fear.

If the girls could pull Kurt up the stairs than all would be well.

If.


	9. Chapter 9

Kurt had forgotten how strong Santana and Brittany were. For just a second, as the pair of them supported his weight and got him up the first three steps hope swelled in his heart. Artie was already safe outside (had he seriously asked to be left behind? Kurt was a little concerned he'd hallucinated that from blood loss. Hallucinations were a bad sign.) and there weren't that many steps between them and freedom.

They hadn't moved fast enough, and there was a gunshot.

There was a second's hesitation as everyone needed to assure themselves none of them had been shot. Or, you know, in Kurt's case, had been shot again. Except those few seconds, the realization that Jacob was close enough behind them that he could take one of them down on the way up the stairs. "Run." he mumbled.

They hauled him up one more step. He forced his voice to its top volume, and even he winced at how high the pitch ended up. "Run!" It was still so quiet...fear flooded through Kurt. His voice was weakening, he needed help...

As quickly as it came the fear abated. He'd thought; for so long, that losing hope would be the most terrifying thing that could ever happen to him. It wasn't. There was a strange sort of peace in just knowing. "The hell I..." Santana tried to argue as she and Brittany started pulling him up another step.

"Santana." he still had enough strength to cut her off, but only just. So his voice was weaker than he'd ever heard it when he said "Put me down, take Brittany and get out. The next shot could hit..."

He didn't need to finish the sentence. In a crisis like this, someone's real priorities showed through. Kurt closed his eyes as he found his body suddenly hanging lopsidedly as Brittany kept trying to support him and Santana stopped. Something tore at his wound and he swallowed hard to keep from crying out. Eventually, Brittany let go too, more gently than Santana had, and the pair rushed for safety at a speed they couldn't manage with Kurt hanging uselessly between them.

Turning around was painful, and this time he didn't bother to stop himself from crying out. Because he already knew what he would see once the pain stopped being blinding. He'd see Jacob Ben Israel looking at him from behind the barrel of a gun. He didn't need to see that again, so he just cut right to the point.

"...why?"

The noise of a gun being cocked really was dramatic, and something in the back of Kurt's mind almost appreciated that fact. He dismissed it as sick and disturbed and demanded "...Jacob, why?"

He fully expected those to be his last words, and terrible last words they'd be too. Except for the part where they weren't. Instead, the pain continued...and there was silence.


End file.
